Eighteen With A Chalkboard

Chapter 4: Flight K4

I flash a small grin at Mrs. Greene while she settles into a comfortable armchair that directly faces me. The room, although compact, provides a soothing environment that eases my mind. The gentle tones of cream and sage, the sunlight streaming through delicate curtains, and the soft buzz of the air conditioner all contribute to its tranquil ambiance. A bookcase proudly stands against one wall, its shelves filled with psychology and self-help books..

"Are you ready to start something new, Nathan?" she asks, her voice gentle, flashing a warm smile.

I swallow, taking a deep breath, the familiar scent of lavender calming my nerves. "I'd like to think I'm ready."

Mrs. Greene's eyes light up. "Believe me, Nathan, I'm already bursting with pride. But remember, as you embark on this new journey, teaching at the university, it's okay to acknowledge your struggles. Social phobia is not something to be ashamed of, and it doesn't define you."

Her words resonate deeply with me, like a balm on my frazzled nerves. "Thank you, Mrs. Greene. Your support means everything to me."

"It's my pleasure," she says confidently. "Just make sure to follow the steps we discussed once you arrive in Edinburgh. And don't hesitate to reach out if you need to talk."

"I'll keep them in mind." I offer her a grateful smile as I rise from my seat, the leather creaking softly beneath me. "Thanks again for everything."

After a firm handshake, I bid her farewell and step out of her cozy office, the door closing behind me with a soft click.

Outside, Mr. Ibrahim Sage is waiting to take me to the airport for my flight. My family gathers to see me off, and to my surprise, my father is there too—I'm pretty sure Grandma pulled him into this.

"I'll miss you, my boy," my mother says for the nth time, peppering my cheeks with kisses. Her familiar perfume, a mix of roses and vanilla, surrounds me. "Just remember to stay true to yourself and don't let anyone else's opinions sway you."

"I understand, Mum," I reply, a hint of exasperation in my voice.

"It's good that you do. And promise me you'll keep me updated on everything you do in Edinburgh, every little detail," she insists, pulling me into another tight hug.

Uncle George finally looks up from his phone, giving me a grin that stretches from ear to ear. "Yo, Nathan, lemme drop some wisdom on ya. The power of love, brotha, it's all 'bout that self-love, ya feel me? If you ain't lovin' yo'self, ain't nobody else gonna do it for ya."

I narrow my eyes. "Why do you keep telling me that? Did I mention I hate myself?"

Uncle George lets out a deep chuckle, his eyes still glued to the screen. "Naw, nephew, you ain't gotta tell me. I heard you chattin' it up with yo' own reflection, like you're makin' deals wit' the mirror or somethin'."

Crap.

The memory of that day is crystal clear in my head, even now. It was just a week ago, a Saturday after Uncle George and I had finished jogging. I was sweaty and stinky, so he kindly let me shower at his place. Before stepping into the bathroom, I couldn't help but glance at myself in the mirror. What stared back at me was far from flattering. I saw a guy wearing glasses, nothing particularly noteworthy. I took off my glasses and peered at my reflection, only to find a blurry version of myself. "I'm not good-looking with or without glasses..." I muttered to myself that day.

Shaking my head at the memory, I deny, "I don't remember saying I hate myself."

Uncle George responds casually, "What ya said that day proved otherwise." I silently thank my lucky stars that nobody thought to ask what exactly I had said that day.